


now all i have’s this anguished heart

by abitofagodcomplex



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone's sad, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Non-Human Genitalia, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, owen harper is a horny bastard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abitofagodcomplex/pseuds/abitofagodcomplex
Summary: five times the doctor didn’t let himself feel loved,and the one time he did.





	1. and a fighting man forgets each cut

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably gonna be emotionally taxing to read, so i recommend you read it while in a good mental state. stay safe, and if you really can't handle it or you know you're in a bad place/are going to be triggered reading, please turn away. a fic isn't worth compromising your safety. <3

“Could we have a quiet day today, Doctor?” Rose let out the sentence with a yawn stretching halfway through it, enunciating her not-a-morning-person-ness with a long, strained stretch of her arms above her head. Her elbow popped as she did, and the Doctor hummed in response to the pleasing noise. 

Rose had just woken up after eight hours, 52 minutes and 48 seconds of sleep. The Doctor always times it; it’s become sort of a habit now.

As she made her way down the narrow staircase to the console room, she ran a hand through her hair and let out a second yawn. Her brows furrowed when she didn’t get a response from him, but a smile came to her face when she saw the Doctor deep in a telepathic conversation with the TARDIS, his hand caressing one of her corals as he leaned against the long stalk on his back. Rose carefully bounded over in front of him, so as not to be too loud and startle him, and waved her hand in front of his face.

“Right! Yes! Sorry ‘bout that,” His brows shot up his forehead, and the hand that had once been touching his ship was now pulling at his left earlobe. “Erm, what was it that you were saying?” He nervously muttered, eyes wide, looking down at his companion.

“I was asking if we could have a chill day. Y’know, no runnin’, no monsters, the usual.”

“Wouldn’t that be the unusual, then?”

“Blimey, our definitions of ‘usual’ and ‘unusual’ 've switched, haven’t they?” She let out a low, contented sigh, not being able to help herself from smiling even wider. The Doctor crossed his arms and returned the same grin she gave him, suddenly bouncing to the console and running around to slap in coordinates and a date. 

“I’ve got the perfect place, Rose Tyler! The Cracked Prison, they call it - right outside Alpha Centauri, this one’s in the good old Milky Way - we’ll say 60th century, eh?” He rambled on in his loud, cheery voice, glancing back at Rose when she grabbed hold of the console as the room shook and rumbled. 

The wild smile on his face never faded when he took her somewhere new. It was occasionally replaced by a fire in his eyes, filled with guilt and shame, and something else Rose could never quite detect. But neither of them wanted to think about that today. Today was going to be quiet.

* * *

Once they’d landed and made their way out of the TARDIS, Rose stood in awe at the seemingly endless hills of pure white sand. She surprised herself with how shocked she could still get at new planets, new eras, new centuries, new people. 

The air wasn't cold, much to her disbelief. The ground was pure white - so white, the tips of the hills in the distance shone as they reflected the light of the green star even from the distance it was from the center of this solar system. The sky was turquoise, and there were no clouds, but it was late in the day for this planet, so the horizon began to gleam a soft forest green as the sun set in the North, the newly visible stars flickering as they started to come out. As far as the eye could see, it looked covered in snow. No vegetation or any indication that there had once been life here was able to be made out by Rose. The entire thing looked empty. Untouched. Beautiful.

“Obviously, there’s no prison you can see, but it used to be one. These dunes used to be huge, stone giants, created as prison guards for the Universe’s most wanted. But once they actually started up the prison, the giants proved to be quite rubbish at actually keeping the prisoners in, so they stopped maintaining it, and this being an artificial planet, the giants became dust over millions of years, rendering it uninhabitable,” The Doctor always managed to answer every immediate question Rose had. “Nothing lives here now.”

“It’d be nice not to ‘ave death invade just one day for us.” As soon as she’d said it, she regretted it. The look on the Doctor’s face had changed in an instant, from full of bliss and excitement, to one where she knew the silence in his head was being paid attention to again. He looked distant, but Rose knew that was his way of being the closest he could to having everyone back. 

She sighed. The heavy feeling in her chest didn’t waver, but then again, it never did. It was a constant. Rose started to feel it after being in the TARDIS long enough to feel her consistent hum in the back of her head, even when they were worlds away from the ship. 

His crushing loneliness was what it was, she was sure of it. 

Rose managed to shove away the pang of self-hatred she always got when she realized how alone he felt. She couldn't help wanting to tell him he wasn't alone, that he had her and he would forever, but then again, Rose figured it was quite a human thing to do, and she knew he'd end up feeling guilty that she'd felt bad about herself because of him. So she did the best thing she knew how, without letting her emotions spill. She knew he wasn’t ready for that.

Rose stood next to him as he stared out into the vast open world covered in white dust, consumed by death and neglect, and took his hand in hers. As he turned and looked down at her with pain in his eyes, brows furrowed, hair trembling as the rest of his body did, she said, “You don’t have to be afraid of gettin’ close to me, Doctor.”

He knew she was telling him he was worthy of knowing Rose Tyler. He knew she was trying to make him see his life didn’t have to be pain; that he didn’t deserve nothing but agony and the endless, pulverizing pressure of feeling wrong, yet being the only thing right in the Universe. That he didn’t deserve to be still at war. Not with the Daleks, but with himself. 

But still, he chose not to believe her. 

And Doomsday came and went.


	2. each knock, each bruise, each fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mature rating for this one, it gets a little spicy, but the actual spice cabinet is still closed. you'll definitely get to see the full contents of said spice cabinet next chapter though [wink]
> 
> set about eight months post the year that never was, in cardiff. the Doctor meets the torchwood team, they have a bit of a laugh, a sad moment, Owen is a prick, etc. sad times ensue. this chapter is very bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably gonna be emotionally taxing to read, so i recommend you read it while in a good mental state. stay safe, and if you really can't handle it or you know you're in a bad place/are going to be triggered reading, please turn away. a fic isn't worth compromising your safety. <3

Whenever Jack found himself on the TARDIS, adrenaline made itself present in his veins even if there was no running for your life required. 

He knew it was a trauma response, but he kept it to himself. Captain Jack Harkness was a lonely man, and it was to be kept that way. Never telling anyone his past, never trying to get close to them, Jack had accepted his fate as the single living fact in all of time. He knew he could share that burden, and the Universe knows he wishes he could trust the person he could share it with. But regaining that trust with a new man when a different one had lost it took time, and that time was not worth spent away from his family. 

Stepping foot into the TARDIS now felt like he was cheating. 

Jack was never picky (in fact, he was quite the opposite), and he’d had his fair share of polyamory, but he had never cheated in all the years he’d existed. Jack Harkness always made it a goal to give people the love they deserved. 

He tried not to let his mind wander to the special box he’d made in his head for his brother, shook his head as if to shoo a fly that had invaded his personal space, and walked briskly up the metal ramp to the console. 

“What’s up, old girl? He giving you trouble?” A soft, yet somehow irritated hum in reply reverberated through the ceiling and the curved walls around him. Jack had found her presence comforting when he’d lived here. The emptiness in his head when he was left on the Game Station made him feel naked. Almost like he’d been left to the wolves. In a way, he had. 

Something reminiscent of a mental nudge told him to stop thinking about it. “Thanks, baby.” He spoke aloud into the room as he brought a hand up to stroke the rim of the console in the most seductive way possible when you’re touching a sentient spaceship. The wink (always executed perfectly) did not go unnoticed either, and he was pretty sure he felt her blushing, or whatever else the equivalent would be. 

“So… where is he?” 

She responded in a low, almost throaty hum. _ In his room. _

“Would I be invading? He kept his little man cave pretty damn secret back in the day.” 

A groan that sounded eerily similar to a giggle shook the room. _ Not at all. Lonely. Go. _Her engines sighed. 

  


Jack thought it sweet of her to give him a direct path from the console room to the Doctor’s bedroom, thanking her without verbal words. When he reached the door, it somehow looked as if he’d seen it before, like a family member you’d met when you were young, and see later in life. Try as he might, while he stood there, brows furrowed, he couldn’t remember where he’d seen it before. 

This wouldn’t have been such a big deal if Jack had ever been anywhere near the Doctor’s room prior to this.

Finally, he decided to drop the thought, and with one swift movement, he rested a hand on his hip and knocked softly on the door with the other.

He bit his lip as he waited for a response, anxiety beginning to creep its way into his chest for the second time today. Jack usually could keep it under control, but if he were honest about it, he had the feeling this regeneration wasn’t as good at hiding his hurt as the last. He, of course, could not be more correct.

The knob turned suddenly, but slowly, and the door crept open. Once the Doctor registered who was on the other side, he swung it open a bit faster, but no less relaxed. He looked like he’d been to hell and back. Jack figured that probably wasn’t far off from the truth.

“What are you doing here?” The Doctor phrased the question more like a statement, completely blank, and if anyone else had heard, they’d think he was angry.

“I could ask you the same thing. You’ve been parked on the Plass for about an hour and a half, I would’ve thought I’d have seen you at least go out for chips.” Jack responded coolly and smoothly as he placed both hands on his hips, doing his best to suppress the anxiety tugging at his voice and the instinct to wrap the stick of stress in front of him up into a hug.

“Not hungry.” 

Okay. That wasn’t good.

“So, what I’m getting from this thrilling conversation is that you haven’t been eating at all.” He let the breath he was holding out in a concerned sigh. “Am I right?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

The Doctor winced and brought a hand up to the back of his neck. He knew he was being particularly unconvincing because of how exhausted he was, but he figured if anyone could see through him anyways, it was Jack.

“How long’s it been for you?” Jack spoke softly, like he was carrying a vase. And if that vase was a certain Time Lord.

A loaded silence filled the room to the brim as the Doctor stared into Jack’s blue eyes. He thought about how much death those eyes have seen. _ How much blood have they witnessed spilled? How many children taken? How many innocents tortured? How many— _

“Please answer me, Doc.”

The Doctor sighed as if resigned to his fate, swung open the door the whole way and retreated back into his room. Jack followed, taking steps forward like it was sacred ground.

With an not-so-graceful flop, the Doctor landed on his bed on his back with his arms out, almost looking like he would make a snow angel. He stared up at the ceiling, exhaling a long breath from his nose. He looked like needing a nap personified.

“Four days, maybe? Haven’t been keeping track.” The Doctor shifted to bring his hands up behind his head, cradling his neck. 

“This regeneration is a terrible liar.” Jack said through a short chuckle. He sat on the end of the bed and leaned back on his hands to look at the Doctor. _ And also incredibly attractive _, he thought, not for the first time.

The Time Lord shot Jack a sideways glance that was very clearly out of annoyance, and he sighed. He brought his hands up to his face and rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, his brow furrowed and forehead creased so hard, it had to be painful. With a groan, he sat up and scooted over next to Jack, leaning back on his elbows. 

The Doctor took a good long look at Jack. He hadn’t really had much of a chance to since before the Game Station without imminent danger being a property of their adventures. 

Jack was bright. He’d been bright before, it used to be like staring straight into a star, but now it’s a warm glow. When the Doctor is already overwhelmed, it still feels unpleasant, but it’s turned into a comfort. Jack glows. Sometimes the Doctor wonders if that’s just Jack Harkness rather than his immortality. He wouldn’t put it past him.

The words left the Doctor’s mouth before he really had a chance to think about them.

“You’re radiant,” He’d said, breathy and anxious, and it was obvious that had been something he was holding in.

Jack stared at him, lips parted, for once in his very long life having no idea what to say. He sputtered for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. After a few seconds of struggling, he noticed the Doctor’s already tense form beginning to shake and tighten with worry.

“Come meet the team.”

Now it was the Doctor’s turn to have no clue what to say. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude—“

“I invited you. You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“I’m sure you all are very busy, though, right?”

“Can you just come? They’ll love you.”

The Doctor’s face drew up into a defeated expression, and he stood up to grab his tie and suit jacket off the floor, beginning to dress. Jack still sat on the bed, watching with intrigue.

“I think I like the half unbuttoned shirt by itself a lot better. You’ve got some chest hair,” He said with a wide grin. The Doctor could hear him smiling.

“It’s Cardiff, Jack, it’s cold. And before you point out my low body temperature, I’d like to point out once more that _ it’s Cardiff _,” He mused as he straightened his tie in the circular mirror on the wall closest to the door. “And I feel naked without a tie on. Just doesn’t feel right.”

Jack chuckled fondly as the Doctor turned around, shrugged on his suit jacket and buttoned it. 

* * *

As the two weary travellers walked along the bay docks towards Torchwood III, the sun began to set, leaving the sky towards the horizon a bright and gleaming orange. The Doctor abruptly stopped walking as soon as he felt the warmth on his face, and he turned to face the sky, a sad half smile on his lips. 

Jack turned around when he stopped hearing a second set of footsteps. About to make a quip telling his old friend to hurry up, he saw the sunset as well, and slowly stepped over next to the Doctor to watch the star dip below the horizon.

“It was a similar color to this,” The Doctor spoke slowly. “Back on Gallifrey. The whole sky. The sunset was crimson, then a deep wine red towards the horizon.” 

Jack wasn’t watching the sky anymore. 

The Doctor looked the saddest he’d ever been. 

“Sounds gorgeous. Wish I could’ve visited.” A lump presented itself in Jack’s throat the moment he finished talking, and the Doctor whipped his head around to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“Come on inside, I’m freezing my ass off.”

“...Can I have tea?” The Doctor chimed in as they both began to turn and walk to the door again.

Jack let out a breathy laugh, swinging open the door and reaching over the front desk to press the button to let them both in. “Of course you can have tea! I wouldn’t be a gentleman then, would I?”

The Doctor snorted.

“Oh, Captain Jack Harkness, you are _ hardly _a gentleman.”

* * *

As they walked into the Hub, Jack climbed the stairs to his office to drop his coat in his chair and two half full mugs of cold coffee that needed to be washed. When he walked back down, he sauntered past the Doctor, who looked like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“Sit down, make yourself at home,” Jack called from the kitchen. “Actually... Toshiko?” 

Sure enough, Tosh came running in from her station at her computer, standing alert in the doorway. “Yes, Jack? Is something wrong?”

Jack turned around once he had poured out the coffee, and gestured toward the Doctor. “Nah, but there is someone I’d like you to meet. Doctor, this is Toshiko Sato. Tosh, Doctor.” The corners of his lips quirked into a knowing smile.

The Doctor turned to look at Tosh, and his face instantly lit up. “Tosh! Lovely to meet you properly,” He grabbed her hand to vigorously shake it, a wild grin on his face. 

She looked very confused.

“I’m sorry, erm… Have we met before?” Tosh smiled politely as she spoke softly.

The Doctor let go of her hand and stood up straight, running a hand through his hair and messing it up even further. The smile didn’t fade in the least.

“Oh, yes, we have! D’you remember when that spaceship crashed into Big Ben? There was a body found on board, turned out to be a humanoid pig dressed up in a cheesy spacesuit?” 

_ Damn, he talks fast, doesn’t he? _Jack thought fondly to himself as he watched them.

Tosh pondered for a moment, her brow creased, trying to remember if she’d seen him before back then. “Y-yes, but… I don’t remember seeing you there. A-and, there was a man there, but that was all who knew about the pig thing right away.” Her confusion registered with the Doctor, and he laughed. Giggled, even.

“Big ears? Real short hair? Leather jacket, bit of a snob?” He laughed as he described his last regeneration, still grinning.

Her eyes widened. “...Yes, actually. Why, do you know him?”

Jack burst with giggles, his shoulders bobbing as he tried not to laugh. “You met her before me?” He grinned at the Doctor, standing up straight and pulling his weight off the edge of the counter.

“Like I said, lovely to meet you again!” The Doctor laughed.

At that, Gwen made her way from her station to the kitchen, standing wearily a good distance away from the Doctor.

She looked at Jack expectantly. He raised a brow at her, then lifted his weight off the counter and walked towards her, new cup of fresh coffee in hand.

He placed his other hand on her shoulder and turned to face the Doctor, gesturing towards the Time Lord. “Gwen, this is the Doctor.”

When he turned to look at Gwen, the Doctor’s face split into a somehow even wider grin, and he let out a bark of triumphant laughter, loosely spinning around on his heels while he processed things. 

“Is he always like this?” She turned to ask Jack, and he snorted. 

“You’ll get used to it. What’s up with her, Doc?” 

Gwen looked even more concerned.

“Oh, Gwen! Gwen what?” The Doctor faced her, looking down at her and swaying back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels.

“Gwen Cooper, sir.”

“Oh, no, drop the ‘sir’, I don’t do sir,” He playfully rolled his eyes. “But Miss Gwen Cooper, do you come from an old Cardiff family, by chance?” 

She eyed him suspiciously. “...Yes, going all the way back to the 1800’s.” Gwen spoke carefully.

Even though she thought it impossible, the Doctor smiled even wider, and ran a hand through his hair again. 

“Spatial genetic multiplicity, oh yes! I met the lovely Gwyneth — come to think of it, you’re probably named after her — in Cardiff, December the 24th, 1869. She saved the world, she did!” He sighed, feeling nostalgic. “Gave her life for it, too.” The Doctor stared off into space, his smile dropping a bit. Something bittersweet was there instead.

Gwen looked at Jack with wide eyes, and he looked at her right back with the same expression of shock. She sighed, softly toeing away from Jack and placing a hand on the Doctor’s forearm. He whipped his head around to look at her, and she saw something so very sad in his eyes. 

She smiled at him. A real smile. He knew what that smile said, and he returned it. 

Jack watched the exchange fondly, and even though nothing was being said, words weren’t necessary. 

The immortal sighed contentedly, and sauntered over to the autopsy table, where Owen was sitting on the stool, idly spinning around by his foot. He couldn’t hear a thing; his headphones were in. Jack stood behind him, coffee in hand, contemplating whether or not he should _ “accidentally” _ spill some in Owen’s lap.

Before he could decide, Owen backed up right into Jack, his head bumping into his chest. Owen jumped. “Shit!”

He turned around to look at Jack and stood up, kicking the stool into a corner, and removing his headphones. 

“Fucking hell, Jack, don’t do that.” He sighed, his lower lip trembling a bit. Jack felt a bit sorry.

“We have a guest, Owen!” Jack left the autopsy bay and pulled the Doctor over, intently watching Owen’s face for some semblance of an emotional reaction. There wasn’t much difference.

“Hello! I’m the Doctor,” He held his hand out for Owen to shake. 

“Doctor what?” Owen slyly replied.

“Just ‘the Doctor’.”

“People call you ‘the Doctor’?” 

“Yep!”

“Not gettin’ that from me, mate. You’ve gotta earn that.” Owen scoffed, staring at the outstretched arm in front of him slowly lowering. 

The Doctor sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Had a friend of mine who said that same thing.” He stared at the floor like it was the most interesting thing he’d seen in all his 904 years. 

Jack eyed Owen and hit him on the arm.

“Doctor Owen Harper,” he finally complied, scoffing. 

* * *

Jack’s flat was small, yet cosy. There were souvenirs and various odds and ends from each year Jack had spent on Earth after the Game Station scattered about, a few framed photographs on the walls of various people. The Doctor wondered if Jack had had anything to remember Rose by when he left him. He felt both his hearts drop into the pit of his stomach.

The bedroom was much larger than the Doctor had expected it to be — _ Very well kept, _ he thought. The bed was made, pillows looked to be fluffed and quite comfortable as well. On the end tables were matching lamps, a few days old half full glass of water sitting perched on the corner of one of the small tables. _ S’pose that’s his side, then. _

As he took in his surroundings, he inhaled deeply, and the whole room smelled so very Jack Harkness. He smiled without realizing.

Jack stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe on one shoulder, arms folded across his chest. He watched the Doctor fiddle about with his little collection in the living room, and followed him not far behind when the Time Lord waltzed into his room. 

The Doctor tended to fidget quite a lot. He couldn’t help it; there were so many things to fidget with! Always moving, always thinking, always thinking alone, thinking by himself, by himself, no one left, no noise, thinking by himself, just him, just him alone—

_ alone alone alone _

_ too quiet no noise not enough noise _

_ silence silence silence too loud _

_ silence too loud someone make noise no noise need noise _

_ gone gone gone _

_ they’re gone _

_ all my fault my fault my _

“Doctor!”

“Wh- what? What is it?”

Jack’s face was drawn up in concern, both hands gripping the Time Lord’s shoulders firmly as if to shake him. “You started… I don’t know, hyperventilating? You were trembling,” he answered carefully. “Mumbling something, too. I couldn’t really hear it.”

As the Doctor backed away from Jack’s touch, it looked a little too much like a flinch, and the Captain’s face fell. He let his hands relax at his sides, then awkwardly shoved them in his pockets and shifting his feet. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Sleep here, with me,” Jack began as he gestured towards the bed behind him, startling himself by how confident his voice sounded. _ Ah, the benefit of muscle memory, I guess. _“Please. I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

Jack sounded like he was desperate now.

The wide-eyed Doctor opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find a convincing way of deflecting the demand, but nothing came of aid.

He pulled at his earlobe with one hand, the other hastily stuffed into his pocket, and Jack noticed the tiniest twinge of a peach blush underneath the Doctor’s starmap of freckles covering his cheeks. 

Jack decided to speak again.

“We don’t have to talk with our mouths if you don’t want to, Doc.” the corners of his mouth turned up on instinct as he spoke low. The Doctor’s cheeks turned a darker red-orange.

“We— Jack, I don’t— I can’t— I’m not—“ Jack tried his best not to giggle as the Doctor did his best to form coherency while flustered. “It’s been, _ ahem _, a very long time since I’ve done anything like that,” He finally forced out. The hand curled around his earlobe was now rubbing at the back of his neck.

The Captain snorted. He couldn’t help it.

“I meant telepathy, Doc,” 

“Oh—“

“I wouldn’t be opposed to whatever it was you had in mind, th—“

“Alright, I get it! Blimey, Jack,” he gave a low, humming groan from his chest as he rubbed his face with both his hands as if to wipe the embarrassment away.

The Doctor wasn’t good with this kind of thing. _ Sex. _He never really was. Time Lords had been taught from a young age that sexuality in all forms was a shameful subject; that if a Child of Gallifrey were to engage in such acts, they would become equal with all inferior species. Love was also viewed as too time consuming to be attractive, and the Doctor often found himself feeling privileged to have two mothers who loved each other very dearly. 

But if the Doctor was honest with himself, he’d be forced to admit that this regeneration was more… sexually inclined than any of his others. When Rose had been on board, he often found himself thinking about what her breasts looked like, what curves she hid beneath all her cute outfits, if she bit her lip when she was aroused the same way she did when she was bored—

_ don’t think about rose _

He didn’t think about sex much since he lost her.

The most recent time he did, it was when he stepped outside the TARDIS on Melcassairo in the year 100 trillion and saw Jack’s soon-to-be-alive-again body on the ground in front of him. 

The Doctor surprised himself with how that thought came before the supposedly immediate headache he got whenever he looked at Jack.

Speaking of thoughts, ‘_m in my own head, aren’t i? _

Jack was looking at the Doctor with one eyebrow raised and an expectant yet wary expression on his handsome features.

“So?” the Captain started. 

The Doctor sighed through his nose and ran a hand through his hair before focusing his eyes to look straight into Jack’s own. He lifted a hand to Jack’s face, cupping his cheek and jaw, and gently rubbing circles on the spot beside his ear near his cheekbone with his thumb.

“It… What I’ve got, down there, I mean— It doesn’t look human.” The Doctor said with a shaky, cautious voice.

Jack chuckled fondly and raised his own hand to rest on the Doctor’s hip, gently pulling him close.

“That won’t be a problem, Doc.” Jack nearly whispered, low and husky, and the Doctor could feel Jack’s breath on his face. “You just gotta…”

The Doctor swallowed hard.

“Show me how to touch you.” Jack continued.

The Doctor stammered once again, his freckles were getting harder to see, which Jack took as something of an accomplishment. “I’m gonna be quite rubbish, I-I haven’t, erm… Done this in years— Centuries, even,” he breathed out nervous laughter in between stutters.

As if on cue, Jack pressed a kiss sticky sweet and full of honeymoon love to the Doctor’s lips, and pulled away slowly, before the Doctor had a chance to reciprocate.

“You’re allowed to be taken care of, too, Doc.” he said.

* * *

In the morning, Jack awoke to an empty bed.

Panic stirred in his chest as he pulled on a pair of boxers as fast as he could, and he searched his tiny flat, looking for any trace of the Time Lord he’d made scream the night before. 

He noticed a napkin on the corner of the counter top he’d missed when he looked in the kitchen. Jack swiped it and read it. 

In incredibly messy, yet somehow legible handwriting in thick, black sharpie, it read:

_ I’m safe, I promise. I’m sorry. _

_ You were amazing so please don’t think I left because of you. _

_ You just deserve better, Captain Jack Harkness. _

_ — The Doctor _

He knew the Doctor hadn’t believed him.

So Jack went to work, and the TARDIS was no longer parked on the Plass.

**Author's Note:**

> it's only gonna get heavier from here, folks. there will be a happy ending though, so don't worry! feel free to follow me on my tumblr, faux-feelings, but just know i don't post any of my writing on there and it's mostly a kin blog. i do draw and upload there, though!  
hope you enjoyed so far!! i'll try to update consistently.


End file.
